Oliver Newman A New-England Tale (Unfinished): With Other Poetical Remains. By the late Robert Southey |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII.
THE INDIAN WAR. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
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 | Oliver Newman |  |
55
VII. THE INDIAN WAR.
With many an anxious thought opprest,
From busy sleep more wearying than unrest,
Hath Oliver arisen;
And from his bed of feverish care,
Glad to respire the cool fresh morning air,
Gone forth as from a prison.
The wakeful Governor received his guest;
And ere the morning board was placed,
They to and fro the garden paced
In earnest talk, while Leverett told
How mutual injuries of old,
And mutual fears, the envenom'd will,
Suspicions still conceal'd but festering still,
And policy that shrunk from nothing ill,
(Savage or civilised — oh shame
To man's perverted power !— in this the same,)
Youth's fiery courage, and eld's rooted hate,
Had brought the danger on, which now assail'd the state.
From busy sleep more wearying than unrest,
Hath Oliver arisen;
And from his bed of feverish care,
Glad to respire the cool fresh morning air,
Gone forth as from a prison.
The wakeful Governor received his guest;
And ere the morning board was placed,
They to and fro the garden paced
In earnest talk, while Leverett told
How mutual injuries of old,
And mutual fears, the envenom'd will,
Suspicions still conceal'd but festering still,
And policy that shrunk from nothing ill,
(Savage or civilised — oh shame
To man's perverted power !— in this the same,)
Youth's fiery courage, and eld's rooted hate,
Had brought the danger on, which now assail'd the state.
The times were fearful; wheresoe'er around
Among the Indian tribes he turn'd his view,
False friends, or open enemies, were found.
How wide their league he rather fear'd than knew.
But this was understood,
That feuds deliver'd down for many an age,
From sire to son in sacred heritage,
Wherewith their very nature seem'd imbued,
Had been with dread solemnities foresworn
And secret rites accurst, in fell intent
That they should root the English from the land,
And the last white man's blood
Be of their bond the seal and sacrament.
Among the Indian tribes he turn'd his view,
False friends, or open enemies, were found.
How wide their league he rather fear'd than knew.
56
That feuds deliver'd down for many an age,
From sire to son in sacred heritage,
Wherewith their very nature seem'd imbued,
Had been with dread solemnities foresworn
And secret rites accurst, in fell intent
That they should root the English from the land,
And the last white man's blood
Be of their bond the seal and sacrament.
In truth they were a formidable foe;
Compared with ours, their numbers made them so;
Crafty, deceitful, murderous, merciless:
Yet with heroic qualities endued:
Contempt of death, surpassing fortitude,
Patience through all privations, self-control
Even such as saints and sages scarce attain,
And a sustain'd serenity of soul,
Which Fortune might assault or tempt in vain,
Not to be moved by pleasure or by pain.
OLIVER.Compared with ours, their numbers made them so;
Crafty, deceitful, murderous, merciless:
Yet with heroic qualities endued:
Contempt of death, surpassing fortitude,
Patience through all privations, self-control
Even such as saints and sages scarce attain,
And a sustain'd serenity of soul,
Which Fortune might assault or tempt in vain,
Not to be moved by pleasure or by pain.
Alas to think they have not long ere this
Been link'd with you in Christian fellowship!
LEVERETT.
Look at divided Christendom!—at England;
Her wounds, inflicted by sectarian rage,
Open and festering,—never to be heal'd!
Look at thy father's house; a threefold cord
Of brotherhood trebly disparted there;
57
In this wide world be found? Alas, my friend,
I see it only in the Promised Land.
From Pisgah's summit, through the glass of Faith,
Far in the regions of futurity.
Yet something we have done, which—though I own it
Far short of what true policy requires,
And in the scale of national duty weighing
Lighter than dust—may show we are not wholly
The slaves of Mammon. Fretted as we have been
By schisms, by rampant heresies disturb'd,
And by that spiritual pride possess'd, whose touch,
With influence lethal as an aspic's tooth,
Numbs the life-blood of charity, this England
Hath sons, whose names, if there be any praise,
Shall have their place with saints of primitive times
Enroll'd, true heroes of humanity.
OLIVER.
Oh doubt not that their virtue and their prayers
Will in this time of trial speed you more
Than all your carnal strength!
LEVERETT.
That faith might better
Beseem thine uncle of the seminary,
The Oratorian, than thy father's son.
A monk may put his trust in beads and sackcloth;
But Oliver's saints wore buff, and their right hands
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Think not, young man, that I disparage prayer,
Because I hold that he, who calls on Heaven
For help against his temporal enemies,
Then with most cause and surest hope prefers
His supplication, when he best exerts
The prudence and the strength which God hath given him.
OLIVER.
There is a strength in patience which exceedeth
All other power; a prudence in the Gospel
Passing, as needs it must, all human wisdom.
That Gospel teaches passiveness and peace.
LEVERETT.
Patience he needs, Heaven knows! who hath to deal
With one enamour'd of a young opinion,
And like a giddy amorist pursuing
The passionate folly, reckless where it leads him.
Remember that you come not here to teach:
Remember too, that something like respect
Is due to years, and something to experience;
Some deference to our station; some attention—
And this at least will be allow'd—to one
Who at all hazards has approved himself
Thy mother's friend, and would no less be thine.
With one enamour'd of a young opinion,
And like a giddy amorist pursuing
The passionate folly, reckless where it leads him.
Remember that you come not here to teach:
Remember too, that something like respect
Is due to years, and something to experience;
Some deference to our station; some attention—
And this at least will be allow'd—to one
Who at all hazards has approved himself
Thy mother's friend, and would no less be thine.
Abash'd at that reproof severe
Stood Oliver, unable to abate
The rising glow of shame that fired his cheek,
Or check the starting tear.
But then the Governor's eye compassionate
Even in reproof,—the pause he interposed,—
The low relenting tone wherein he closed
His stern though fit authoritive strain,
Temper'd the needful pain.
Stood Oliver, unable to abate
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Or check the starting tear.
But then the Governor's eye compassionate
Even in reproof,—the pause he interposed,—
The low relenting tone wherein he closed
His stern though fit authoritive strain,
Temper'd the needful pain.
“O best and kindest friend,
O friend revered, I feel and own,
Whether I spake in error or in truth,
That thy rebuke is just,” replied the youth:
“Forgive me! and no more will I offend;
But listen, and in all things, that I may,
Humbly and zealously obey.”
O friend revered, I feel and own,
Whether I spake in error or in truth,
That thy rebuke is just,” replied the youth:
“Forgive me! and no more will I offend;
But listen, and in all things, that I may,
Humbly and zealously obey.”
LEVERETT.
Hear then, and patiently, while I instruct thee
Of things as yet unchronicled in books,
But bearing on this crisis, and the knowledge
Whereof in thine adventure will be found
Specially needful. When the English laid
The poor foundations of our colony,
(For poor indeed they seem'd; and yet I ween
In happy hour a corner stone was placed
That ne'er shall be removed!) they found the land
Contested sometimes, and sometimes possess'd
In captious peace, between three powerful nations,
Or rather families of tribes. Omitting
The minor distributions (which are many
And barbarous all), suffice it to name these
In the order of their strength: the Pequods first;
The Narhagansets, unto whom belong
Thy ransom'd captives; lastly, the Moheagans,
Who occupied the immediate territory
Whereon our sad adventurers set foot.
With Massasoyt, chief Sachem of the latter,
A league was made, of mutual benefit;
For, under Providence, his only friendship,
In the first hardships of the settlement,
Saved them alive; and their alliance proved
A shield against his enemies. This being
The end to which he look'd, who was a man
Advanced in years, far-sighted, honourable
And of a spirit, which, if he had sway'd
An European sceptre, might have blest
The people over whom its rule extended,
The league was faithfully on both sides observed;
And ere his death the old man solemnly
Renew'd it for his sons, who for themselves
In their own persons ratified the engagement.
Of things as yet unchronicled in books,
But bearing on this crisis, and the knowledge
Whereof in thine adventure will be found
Specially needful. When the English laid
The poor foundations of our colony,
(For poor indeed they seem'd; and yet I ween
In happy hour a corner stone was placed
That ne'er shall be removed!) they found the land
Contested sometimes, and sometimes possess'd
In captious peace, between three powerful nations,
Or rather families of tribes. Omitting
The minor distributions (which are many
And barbarous all), suffice it to name these
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The Narhagansets, unto whom belong
Thy ransom'd captives; lastly, the Moheagans,
Who occupied the immediate territory
Whereon our sad adventurers set foot.
With Massasoyt, chief Sachem of the latter,
A league was made, of mutual benefit;
For, under Providence, his only friendship,
In the first hardships of the settlement,
Saved them alive; and their alliance proved
A shield against his enemies. This being
The end to which he look'd, who was a man
Advanced in years, far-sighted, honourable
And of a spirit, which, if he had sway'd
An European sceptre, might have blest
The people over whom its rule extended,
The league was faithfully on both sides observed;
And ere his death the old man solemnly
Renew'd it for his sons, who for themselves
In their own persons ratified the engagement.
But men and times were changed, when the elder youth
Succeeded to his sire; for the Colonists,
Now well acquainted with these Indian neighbours,
Loath'd their unseemly usages, abhorr'd
Their most incredible cruelty, despised
Their easy ignorance,—and practised on it.
I seek not to conceal our own offences:
Compared with other nations,—even with England,
Such as corrupted England long hath been,—
We are a sober, yea, a righteous people:
But Trade, which in the mother-land is one
Of many wheels, bearing a part alone,
And that too but subordinate, in the movements
Of a complicate and wonderful machine,
Is in our simple order the main-spring
That governs all. And where Trade rules, alas!
Whatever name be worshipp'd in the temples,
Mammon receives the heart's idolatry,
And is the god of the land.
Succeeded to his sire; for the Colonists,
Now well acquainted with these Indian neighbours,
Loath'd their unseemly usages, abhorr'd
Their most incredible cruelty, despised
Their easy ignorance,—and practised on it.
I seek not to conceal our own offences:
Compared with other nations,—even with England,
Such as corrupted England long hath been,—
We are a sober, yea, a righteous people:
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Of many wheels, bearing a part alone,
And that too but subordinate, in the movements
Of a complicate and wonderful machine,
Is in our simple order the main-spring
That governs all. And where Trade rules, alas!
Whatever name be worshipp'd in the temples,
Mammon receives the heart's idolatry,
And is the god of the land.
Our Indian friends
Too soon had reason to abate their friendship;
And politic interests, which had held them to us,
Were loosen'd, when they saw their ancient foes,
The dreaded Pequods, by our arms pursued
In vigorous war, and rooted from the land,
Till the name alone remain'd, with none to own it.
This Alexander, so the youth was called,
Finding that check removed, and being also
By his father's death set free from all control,
Plotted against the English, in resentment
Partly, no doubt, because strict pains in teaching
(Less wise than well-intended) had been spent
On his indocile and unwilling spirit;
But having injuries also to provoke
A haughty courage. Ere his schemes were ripe
He was, on sure intelligence, arrested;
And disappointed malice, joined with anger,
Raising a fever in his heart and brain,
Deliver'd him from our restraint by death.
He left a brother, who inherited
His rights and wrongs,—that Philip who is now
The scourge and terror of the colony.
Too soon had reason to abate their friendship;
And politic interests, which had held them to us,
Were loosen'd, when they saw their ancient foes,
The dreaded Pequods, by our arms pursued
In vigorous war, and rooted from the land,
Till the name alone remain'd, with none to own it.
This Alexander, so the youth was called,
Finding that check removed, and being also
By his father's death set free from all control,
Plotted against the English, in resentment
Partly, no doubt, because strict pains in teaching
(Less wise than well-intended) had been spent
On his indocile and unwilling spirit;
But having injuries also to provoke
A haughty courage. Ere his schemes were ripe
He was, on sure intelligence, arrested;
And disappointed malice, joined with anger,
Raising a fever in his heart and brain,
Deliver'd him from our restraint by death.
He left a brother, who inherited
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The scourge and terror of the colony.
Think not that these were names imposed in baptism:
Upon that point the heart of Massasoyt
Was harden'd; and his sons, like him, regarded
With mingled hatred and contempt a faith
They fail'd to understand. But it is held
A mark of honour to bestow, a pledge
Of friendship to receive, new appellations;
Which here too, among savages, import
Something of peerage, of deserved esteem,
Or of imputed worth, the commonalty
(Strange as such custom may appear) being nameless.
My predecessor, with too true presage,
Fix'd on these names, less for the Christian sound
Which use hath given them, than because he saw
In the one youth an enterprising temper,
Ambitious of command; and in the other,
More to be fear'd, a deep dissembling spirit,
Which, if the time required, could brook its wrongs,
And in all outward patience chew the while
The cud of bitter thoughts. He being yet young,
The station, which his sire had fill'd, devolved
Upon a chief, who was alike approved
In council and in war; the right remaining
For Philip to succeed in course of years,
If years should validate the acknowledged claim
Of birthright; for that claim, among the Indians,
Is held defeasible by ill-desert.
During this lapse of time, old rivalries
Revived between the two remaining tribes;
Whom ere the Pequods' power was crush'd, the sense
Of danger from that common enemy
Restrain'd in peace. Not to prolong my tale
With details not required for thy instruction,
The sum was this, that, as by treaty pledged
And justice bound, (for the right cause was theirs,
And interest also led us to uphold
The weaker side,) we aided the Moheagans,
Our first allies; and, when they took in battle
The hostile leader Miantonnimo,
He suffer'd death, by our advice and sanction;
Being however, at our instance, spared
From all those customary cruelties,
Which make the Indians odious in the sight
Of God and man. Seem I to speak severely,
Beyond what truth or Christian charity
May warrant? Soon, my friend, thou wilt have cause
To give that sentence thy convinced assent;
God in his mercy grant thou may'st not buy
The sad conviction dearly!
Upon that point the heart of Massasoyt
Was harden'd; and his sons, like him, regarded
With mingled hatred and contempt a faith
They fail'd to understand. But it is held
A mark of honour to bestow, a pledge
Of friendship to receive, new appellations;
Which here too, among savages, import
Something of peerage, of deserved esteem,
Or of imputed worth, the commonalty
(Strange as such custom may appear) being nameless.
My predecessor, with too true presage,
Fix'd on these names, less for the Christian sound
Which use hath given them, than because he saw
In the one youth an enterprising temper,
Ambitious of command; and in the other,
More to be fear'd, a deep dissembling spirit,
Which, if the time required, could brook its wrongs,
And in all outward patience chew the while
The cud of bitter thoughts. He being yet young,
The station, which his sire had fill'd, devolved
Upon a chief, who was alike approved
In council and in war; the right remaining
For Philip to succeed in course of years,
If years should validate the acknowledged claim
Of birthright; for that claim, among the Indians,
Is held defeasible by ill-desert.
63
Revived between the two remaining tribes;
Whom ere the Pequods' power was crush'd, the sense
Of danger from that common enemy
Restrain'd in peace. Not to prolong my tale
With details not required for thy instruction,
The sum was this, that, as by treaty pledged
And justice bound, (for the right cause was theirs,
And interest also led us to uphold
The weaker side,) we aided the Moheagans,
Our first allies; and, when they took in battle
The hostile leader Miantonnimo,
He suffer'd death, by our advice and sanction;
Being however, at our instance, spared
From all those customary cruelties,
Which make the Indians odious in the sight
Of God and man. Seem I to speak severely,
Beyond what truth or Christian charity
May warrant? Soon, my friend, thou wilt have cause
To give that sentence thy convinced assent;
God in his mercy grant thou may'st not buy
The sad conviction dearly!
For awhile
The hatred which this left between those nations
Was our security; albeit we knew
That, in the offended party, the desire
Of vengeance would outlive the gratitude
Due for our help, from those whom we had succour'd.
The sense of injury in the human mind
Is like a drug upon the offended palate,
Clinging when bitterest most abidingly:
The benefits, which men receive, they take
Like wholesome food, that leaves no tang behind it.
The hatred which this left between those nations
Was our security; albeit we knew
That, in the offended party, the desire
Of vengeance would outlive the gratitude
Due for our help, from those whom we had succour'd.
The sense of injury in the human mind
Is like a drug upon the offended palate,
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The benefits, which men receive, they take
Like wholesome food, that leaves no tang behind it.
We found it thus: for now these Tribes, foregoing
Their mutual hatred, as of lesser moment,
Have leagued against us. Philip is the head
Of the confederacy: his crafty brain
Combines, provides, prepares and plans the mischief.
And yet his venomous will and strong desire
Draw him to this, against his better judgment,
Possess'd not more with wise prudential fear
Than with a strange religious awe, so weighty
That, politic as he is, he hath not sought
Even from his own people to conceal
Its dark forebodings. What he wants in hope
His new ally the Narhaganset Sachem
Supplies but all too well: for this Canonchet,
Son of that Miantonnimo whose death
He charges on our counsels, is the heart
Of the league. Insidious, resolute, inhuman;
Brave, both in passive and in active courage,
Almost beyond belief; implacable
In malice; wily as a snake to wind
His silent way unseen, when time requires
Concealment; furious as a hungry wolf,
When opportunity allows the indulgence
Of his fierce hatred,—this man is accomplish'd
To the height of savage virtue.
Their mutual hatred, as of lesser moment,
Have leagued against us. Philip is the head
Of the confederacy: his crafty brain
Combines, provides, prepares and plans the mischief.
And yet his venomous will and strong desire
Draw him to this, against his better judgment,
Possess'd not more with wise prudential fear
Than with a strange religious awe, so weighty
That, politic as he is, he hath not sought
Even from his own people to conceal
Its dark forebodings. What he wants in hope
His new ally the Narhaganset Sachem
Supplies but all too well: for this Canonchet,
Son of that Miantonnimo whose death
He charges on our counsels, is the heart
Of the league. Insidious, resolute, inhuman;
Brave, both in passive and in active courage,
Almost beyond belief; implacable
In malice; wily as a snake to wind
His silent way unseen, when time requires
Concealment; furious as a hungry wolf,
When opportunity allows the indulgence
Of his fierce hatred,—this man is accomplish'd
To the height of savage virtue.
Need I tell thee,
That, as in civil, so in barbarous states,
The course of action takes its bias less
From meditation, and the calm resolve
Of wisdom, than from accident and temper,
Private advantage at all costs pursued,
Private resentments recklessly indulged,
The humour, will, and pleasure, of the leaders,
The passions and the madness of the people.
Under all climes, and in all forms of rule,
Alike the one, the many, or the few,
Among all nations of whatever tint,
All languages, these govern everywhere;
The difference only is of less or more,
As chance, to use the common speech, may sway;
In wiser words, as Providence directs.
The bond wherein these hostile tribes are knit
Against us, policy cannot untie,
Nor the sword cut. No easy conquest ours,
Such as the Spaniards found in Mexico,
Or Eldorado's priestly monarchies,
Or the well-order'd Incas' rich domains;
They could cope there with multitudinous hosts
Drawn forth in open field, and kings whose will,
Even in captivity was through the realm
Religiously obey'd. But we must wage
Wars that will yield the soldier neither gold
Nor glory. In the forest and the swamp
Have we to seek our foes; and if the shield
Of the good Angel be not over us,
On all sides from safe cover with sure aim
The death-shots whiz. Would we then clear the land,
It is not to be done by victories;
But head by head must they be hunted down,
Like wolves; a work of danger and of time;
And in this region wild of endless woods,
Possible only to the inveterate hatred
Of tribe for tribe. We tried the extremity—
Inhuman as it is—against the Pequods;
And, with the ferine help of such allies,
Pursued it to the end. All whom the sword
Spared, or our mercy interposed to save
From torments, to the Sugar Isles were sold;
And in the daily death of bondage there
The race hath been consumed. But what hath been
The issue? Why, the tribes which aided us
To root them out, stand on the hostile part
Against us now the more audaciously,
Because they feel themselves in union strong,
And see us in the land without allies.
The hope thy hazardous adventure offers
Is this, that, if the die, whereon thy fate
For life or death is set, fall favourably,
And thou shouldst gain access among the elders,
The exasperate mood, which would too surely else
Repel our proffer'd terms of amnesty,
May toward thee be soften'd. For these people
Act sometimes upon impulse, like thyself;
A generous action wins them, whom no fear
Can touch, nor pity move; and they will trust,
Like dogs and children, to a countenance,
Wherein, as if instinctively, they read
Fair testimonials from the unerring hand
Of Nature, patent there. And if one tribe,
One chief, unto thy words of peace incline
A willing ear, the league in all its parts
Will feel its ill-compacted strength relax:
Once loosen'd, it dissolves.
That, as in civil, so in barbarous states,
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From meditation, and the calm resolve
Of wisdom, than from accident and temper,
Private advantage at all costs pursued,
Private resentments recklessly indulged,
The humour, will, and pleasure, of the leaders,
The passions and the madness of the people.
Under all climes, and in all forms of rule,
Alike the one, the many, or the few,
Among all nations of whatever tint,
All languages, these govern everywhere;
The difference only is of less or more,
As chance, to use the common speech, may sway;
In wiser words, as Providence directs.
The bond wherein these hostile tribes are knit
Against us, policy cannot untie,
Nor the sword cut. No easy conquest ours,
Such as the Spaniards found in Mexico,
Or Eldorado's priestly monarchies,
Or the well-order'd Incas' rich domains;
They could cope there with multitudinous hosts
Drawn forth in open field, and kings whose will,
Even in captivity was through the realm
Religiously obey'd. But we must wage
Wars that will yield the soldier neither gold
Nor glory. In the forest and the swamp
Have we to seek our foes; and if the shield
Of the good Angel be not over us,
On all sides from safe cover with sure aim
The death-shots whiz. Would we then clear the land,
It is not to be done by victories;
66
Like wolves; a work of danger and of time;
And in this region wild of endless woods,
Possible only to the inveterate hatred
Of tribe for tribe. We tried the extremity—
Inhuman as it is—against the Pequods;
And, with the ferine help of such allies,
Pursued it to the end. All whom the sword
Spared, or our mercy interposed to save
From torments, to the Sugar Isles were sold;
And in the daily death of bondage there
The race hath been consumed. But what hath been
The issue? Why, the tribes which aided us
To root them out, stand on the hostile part
Against us now the more audaciously,
Because they feel themselves in union strong,
And see us in the land without allies.
The hope thy hazardous adventure offers
Is this, that, if the die, whereon thy fate
For life or death is set, fall favourably,
And thou shouldst gain access among the elders,
The exasperate mood, which would too surely else
Repel our proffer'd terms of amnesty,
May toward thee be soften'd. For these people
Act sometimes upon impulse, like thyself;
A generous action wins them, whom no fear
Can touch, nor pity move; and they will trust,
Like dogs and children, to a countenance,
Wherein, as if instinctively, they read
Fair testimonials from the unerring hand
Of Nature, patent there. And if one tribe,
One chief, unto thy words of peace incline
67
Will feel its ill-compacted strength relax:
Once loosen'd, it dissolves.
The Governor
Paused then; and fixing on the youth a look
Benign though mournful, “Mark me, Oliver,”
He said; “I call upon thy mother's soul
To witness—if the spirits of the dead
Are cognizant of what is done below—
That I have sought in all sincerity
To turn thee from thy purpose! If the event
Be fatal, before thee, and her, and Heaven,
Shall I stand unreproved; and with my sorrow
No self-reproach will mingle. But if still
Thy purpose holdeth firm, God speed thee! Go
In hope! I would not that my words should prove
A load to weigh thy buoyant spirit down.
It may be thou may'st render to the state
Some eminent service in this time of need:
And thus—O son of an unhappy house,
Born to a sad inheritance!—it may be,
That in this other England, this new world,
Thou may'st recast thy fortunes; may'st acquire
Such honour as consists with peace of mind
In the end; and for thy children's children gain
In this good land a goodly heritage.
Paused then; and fixing on the youth a look
Benign though mournful, “Mark me, Oliver,”
He said; “I call upon thy mother's soul
To witness—if the spirits of the dead
Are cognizant of what is done below—
That I have sought in all sincerity
To turn thee from thy purpose! If the event
Be fatal, before thee, and her, and Heaven,
Shall I stand unreproved; and with my sorrow
No self-reproach will mingle. But if still
Thy purpose holdeth firm, God speed thee! Go
In hope! I would not that my words should prove
A load to weigh thy buoyant spirit down.
It may be thou may'st render to the state
Some eminent service in this time of need:
And thus—O son of an unhappy house,
Born to a sad inheritance!—it may be,
That in this other England, this new world,
Thou may'st recast thy fortunes; may'st acquire
Such honour as consists with peace of mind
In the end; and for thy children's children gain
In this good land a goodly heritage.
| Oliver Newman | |